


The Doctor and The Lamb

by spookytimes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bottom Will Graham, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Female Hannibal Lecter, Female Will Graham, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gender or Sex Swap, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Light BDSM, Murder Wives, Self-Indulgent, Top Hannibal Lecter, i dont know how to add tags, murder husbands but theyre wives :), slowburn, theyre cute trust me, theyre massive lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookytimes/pseuds/spookytimes
Summary: Basically gender-swapped Hannibal, but they both realize they're in love by like episode two and actually talk about their feelings.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written on here so uhh don't be too harsh :)

It had been a long few days. Ever since Jack had showed up in her class and convinced her to consult on a case, her life could only be described as going steadily downhill. She'd looked at the girls, told him everything she saw, and still it wasn't enough. To tell the truth - it wasn't enough for her either. She had to catch the killer now, she felt herself getting closer. Just as Jack wanted.

Now, she was sitting in his office, waiting. When Jack returned he had someone else with him, someone new. Will frowned briefly, she wasn't fond of new people. 

"Hello." The woman smiled down at her, far too pleasant than normal for Will. Her smile seemed genuine, but her eyes were colder - much more distant. Will instantly looked to her glasses' frames, strategically placed so she could avoid eye contact without seeming rude. "I'm Hannibal Lecter, but you may call me Hanna."

"Willow." Will offered, in way of a reply, then realized saying just that was a little rude. "Or - uh - Will. Graham." She inwardly cursed at how horrifically awkward that was, but Jack could scold her later about scaring off the help. He already knew about her appalling social skills, so it was his fault, really. 

Hanna was still staring at her with that warm expression, an obvious fondness to it that made Will's skin crawl and prick with heat. Nerves - it was probably just nerves.

Jack coughed, seemingly amused at this interaction, and finally took the opportunity to properly explain to Will what was going on. "Now that that's over, Dr Lecter is here to help develop your psychological profile. Find out what kind of killer we're dealing with here." 

Will nodded, ready to move past pleasantries and get back to actual work - still feverishly avoiding the intense eyes that were fixed on her. They talked about the case for a while, and it was heartily welcomed by Will, especially when it got Dr Lecter's gaze off her and to the board in the corner of the room. 

"Tell me then, how many confessions?" Miss Lecter asked, the question directed at neither of them in particular.

"Twelve dozen last time I checked." Jack replied, "none of them knew details. Until this morning - then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols’ body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddy Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime."

"Tasteless." Will snarled, she couldn't stop herself. It was disgusting.

But that seemed to catch Hannibal's attention. "Do you often have trouble with taste?" 

Will squirmed a little, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. "My thoughts are often not tasty." She answered, bluntly.

"Nor mine." Hanna smiled, it seemed genuine. "No effective barriers."

"I make forts."

"Associations come quickly."

"So do forts." Will snapped, without meaning to, but she was only met with Hannibal's rewarding smile.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" She continued, completely unfazed.

"Eyes are distracting." Though Will was taken aback by the boldness of the Doctor, she didn't show it. She saw this as a challenge, and it was one she'd meet."Don't see enough, see too much... And - it's hard to focus when you're thinking 'are those whites really white?' or, 'they must have hepatitis' or, 'is that a burst vein'?" She felt a surge of bitterness about the situation - why was she being questioned?! "So yeah. I try to avoid eyes, wherever possible." She scowled, and to her horror, Dr Lecter only seemed vaguely amused at the outburst. That made her flush slightly - which made her angrier. Why was she acting like this?

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." Hannibal replied, unperturbed.

"Whose profile are you working on?" Willow demanded, then she turned to Jack, "whose profile is she working on?!" 

"I'm sorry, Willow-"

"Will." She scowled.

"Will." Dr Lecter corrected. "Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off." She seemed genuinely sorry, her persistent smile fallen from her face when Will worked up the courage to look back up at it.

Still, Willow wasn't convinced. She had too much going on in her mind to tolerate anyone else fumbling around in it. "Don't psychoanalyze me." She warned, "you won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed."

She stood up, grabbing her coat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to give a lecture." She approached the door, grabbing the handle about as angrily as one could grab a handle. "On psychoanalyzing!" She slammed the door shut and stormed down the corridor, still fuming. A touch dramatic, she was aware, but to hell with good first impressions. She felt invaded, seen. The way Dr Lecter had looked at her... it was piercing. She didn't like the affect it seemed to have on her.

Hannibal Lecter, on the other hand, was thrilled with this new development. She sat across from Jack, explaining Willow's condition and imagining all the beautiful things she could do to the brilliant girl, such an opportunity - such a feast as this - did not present itself often. She even allowed herself to even envision all the beautiful things Willow could become. She felt like a wolf with her teeth cleanly picked and glinting in the moonlight, God, she hadn't felt like this in years. Ready for the hunt.

\--

A few days passed since Will saw her again. Cassie Boyle's body discovered, which gave her plenty of fresh new nightmare fuel that she was sure would haunt her even after she properly returned to her ordinary life of teaching - which she still planned to do. She was convinced it was a copycat who did it, not the 'Minnesota Shrike', as everyone was now so tastefully calling them. Unfortunately that was exactly not what Jack wanted to hear.

She heard a knock at the door and hastily grabbed her dressing gown, preparing herself for details of a new grizzly murder. Her expectations were so low that when she opened the door to Dr Lecter, she felt almost relieved. She didn't know what page they were on since her outburst in Jack's office, and so was incredibly surprised at the visit. She was also suddenly acutely aware of how improperly dressed she was.

"Good morning, Will. May I come in?" Hanna asked, pleasantly, politely ignoring the redness of Willow's face (though internally it didn't fail to amuse her).

Will started at her dumbly for a moment, before her tongue suddenly remembered it was connected to her brain and she could speak. "Where's Crawford?" She asked, and immediately regretted it, not even a hello? What was wrong with her?

"Disposed in court, the adventure will be yours and mine today." She seemed positively delighted at her own news, "may I come in?" She repeated, and Will just stepped out of the doorway, following Dr Lecter when she immediately started for the dining table. Will trailed her curiously as Hanna sat down and popped open a plastic container. She gestured at the seat across from her and Will sat down obediently, before realizing what she'd done and becoming unreasonably angry at herself for the involuntary response.

"I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage." Will watched silently as Dr Lecter dished out food on both their plates. She smiled up at Will again briefly, privately taking in the situation with relish. 

When Willow regain control of her arms and legs, she picked up a fork and took a bite of the meal, trying desperately to just act like a normal damn person. She didn't miss how Miss Lecter's eyes followed her movements as she chewed, her lips... her throat... "it's delicious, thank you." She muttered when she was done, finding it to be true. The food was incredible.

"My pleasure." Dr Lecter simply smiled and returned her attention to her own plate, acting infuriatingly as if nothing had happened. Will caught herself on that thought - what had happened? 

"I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you’ll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Dr Lecter chuckled and Will found herself smiling along with her, relaxing at the introduction of humor to their relationship.

"Just, ah, keep it professional." She managed.

Dr Lecter met her eyes, "Or we could socialize like adults, god forbid we become friendly!" She joked again, and Will felt surprisingly comfortable. She was stubborn, though, and her fire wasn't quite put out from the other day. Also the idea of becoming 'friendly' with anyone who didn't have four paws and a tail frankly made her head spin.

"I don't find you that interesting." She retorted, but there was a playful spark to her eyes now, softening the insult.

Dr Lecter just smiled a knowing smile that made Willow feel inexplicably like she was supposed to know something she didn't. "You will." Then, "finish your breakfast."

Will was less mad this time at following Dr Lecter's instructions and silently picking up her fork and returning to her meal.


	2. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will kills Garret Jacob Hobbs, and Hannibal realizes their connection runs deeper than she first thought, because romantic realizations can pretty much only occur with a mix of murder with these two.

“What are you smiling about?” Will asked Hanna as the car rolled to a stop. The tension had eased considerably from earlier, and instead of torturing herself with whether Dr Lecter was flirting with her or not, Willow decided to take the easy route and forget about it for the time being.

“Oh, just peeking behind the curtain.” Hannibal crossed her arms across her chest, remaining seemingly good humoured, “Curious how the FBI goes about its business when it isn’t kicking in doors.”

The corner of Will’s mouth tugged upwards at that, a half-smile that only lasted a fraction of a second, but Hanna didn’t miss it. “You’re lucky we’re not doing house-to-house interviews,” she joked. 

Then, “We found a little piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader.” It was so, so easy, talking about work. So much easier than the alternative; getting close to Dr Lecter, though that didn’t mean Willow didn’t want to. 

“Jack Crawford wants me to make sure you’re of sound mind and body... to look for metal pipe threaders?” Hannibal smirked, and it did strange things to Will’s stomach she immediately shoved back down.

Willow even let out an involuntary laugh, could it be that Dr Lecter was actually good company? She made it appallingly difficult for Will to dislike her. “That’s between you and Jack.” The laugh had left the residue of a smile on her face, and this time she didn’t bother to wipe it off.

“Must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.” Hanna mused, phrasing the question more to herself than to Will.

“Certain kinda metal. Certain kinda pipe. Certain kinda pipe coating. So we’re looking at construction sites that use that kinda pipe.”

“And what are we looking for?” She seemed genuinely interested, like she actually wanted to help. Willow didn’t know why, but the thought surprised her.

“At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar.”

As soon as they were inside they settled comfortably into sorting through files and drawers in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence - as Will had found occurred with most people - instead it was a warm one, with a hint of something she couldn’t quite name… She found herself minutely frustrated every time the screechy voice of the secretary cut through it.

“Two ladies from the F.B.I. They’re going through drawers now. Putting papers in file boxes. Yes. They’re taking things. No. They didn’t say whe -- Yes, they can.” She hissed into the phone, Will rolled her eyes and unbeknownst to her Hanna saw it and smiled fondly. Strange, that wasn’t her usual reaction to rudeness.

The secretary held the phone away from her ear briefly and turned to address them, “what did you say your names were?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs!” Willow shouted triumphantly, then blushed when she realised she’d spoken aloud. Dr Lecter’s pleased smile made up for it, though - before Willow realised it really shouldn’t.

“One of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job.” The secretary answered the non-question-question, then hissed into the phone “I’ll call you back.”

As Will questioned the secretary on the subject of Garret Jacob Hobbs, Hanna found herself watching the girl closely. The knowledge and subtle determination she’d displayed already were beyond what she’d seen of anyone else so far - not only that but her ability to understand. It was wonderful.

She wanted to crack open the girl’s skull and watch the cogs of her mind tick so beautifully, wanted to see how she worked, wanted her for herself. Mostly, she wanted to break her so she could remold her. Burn her so a phoenix could rise from the ashes.

It was decided; she would warn the Minnesota Shrike that the FBI were on their way, compelling him to slaughter his ‘golden ticket’ - as she believed Will referred to it. His own daughter. How interesting. She would watch as this fascinating girl unravelled before her eyes. What actions would she be forced to take? Would she hide her guilty pleasure at them? What mental toll would it have? The questions were simply delicious. 

Little things brought pure delight to Hanna’s heart these days - at least nothing that would be considered acceptable morally - but this, she felt, was moral. She was, in her mind, helping Willow, plans already fitting themselves together to aid the girl’s becoming. Starting with...

“What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?” She asked Willow, suddenly. More insight into how that intoxicating mind operated.

“Left a phone number. No address.” Will replied shortly, Hannibal tried not to take it personally, the girl was working right now, after all. But a phone number - that was useful.

“Therefore he has something to hide?” She pushed.

Willow shrugged, not putting much weight on the matter, “everyone else left an address.” She reasoned, then turned to the secretary, “you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?”

\-- 

The first thing Willow saw as she opened the car door was crimson, a spray of it as a woman, presumably the mother, is shoved out onto the porch, wound gushing. For a millisecond, she considered the colour to be beautiful, before rushing forwards to see what can be salvaged of this broken family.

She would not make it. Willow knew this even when she knelt down beside the woman and pressed down on the gap in her abdomen - of course she wouldn't make it. Even so Will would’ve insisted on kneeling there and holding her hand through it - if it wasn’t for the daughter. There were still lives that could be saved. 

Willow stood and allowed herself no pauses before ramming her side into the door as hard as she could, she heard something break but couldn’t tell if it was the door or her shoulder. In her current state she wouldn’t feel it. To her surprise the door was successfully tossed open, and she moved into the Hobbs’ house.

Hannibal paused, regarding the body of Louise Hobbs with blank eyes before stepping swiftly over it, this was turning out to be a more interesting day than she’d hoped.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs? FBI!” Willow shouted as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, then she stopped dead in her tracks. The memory should’ve been a blur to Will, but it wasn’t. She remembered everything; the opening of the throat and the glorious colour it created, the reverberations of the gun as she repeatedly pulled the trigger, the rush of seeing bullets littered over Hobb’s shirt. 

He hit the counter with a thud, and her first instinct should’ve been to run to the girl - save the girl! Instead, she wanted to go to him. Watch the light fade from his eyes.

Against her horrific nature Willow rushed to the girl on the floor, cursing her astounding lack of medical knowledge and wildly trying to stop the tides of blood that were escaping her pale neck. Briefly; as if the moment was completely detached from reality; Hobbs caught Will’s blue eyes. 

“See.” He hissed, though more from pain than spite, “see.”

And she got her wish. Got to watch the light leave Garret Jacob Hobbs’ eyes.

Hanna had watched it all. The bloodbath that was the Hobbs house left a coppery taste to the air, she appreciated it. Her attention was almost entirely focused, however, on Will. The way she’d moved through the house - appearing confident even though her mind was tearing itself apart with the guilt of leaving Louise outside to die alone; or perhaps she’d assumed Hannibal would stay with the woman. In that case she’d gotten her dreadfully wrong.

She replayed select memories over in her mind briefly, reveling in their glory. The first gunshot had rang out, and Willow’s glasses and face had become splattered with the blood of Garret Jacob Hobbs. It had matted her curly brown hair slightly, and Hannibal had the sudden urge to run her hand through it. Whilst she made a point of never denying herself her wants, this one was currently unattainable - and a little surprising, even to herself.

After the suitable pause had passed Dr Lecter made the point of turning the corner into the kitchen and rushing to Willow’s side. She immediately angled the dying girl’s head up and applied the appropriate pressure to the wound, not taking for granted her ability to make Willow feel embarrassingly inadequate - even in situations such as this.

Hannibal was careful to remain composed and professional, in stark contrast to the shaking mess that was the remnants of Willow’s mind trying to piece themselves back together. That confirmed it, the same Will who had entered this house would not be leaving it. A different person was walking out those doors, and with Dr Lecter’s guidance that person would become something divine.

For a second, their eyes locked over the body. Will’s slightly glazed and completely maddened; Hannibal’s curious but strangely intense. She hadn’t felt things like this in… a long long time. She considered the possibility, for the first time, that it was not only Willow’s mind she was fascinated with - but the entire being of Willow herself.

Yes. It was possible. She had never been in denial about her attraction to the girl, per se, but she’d assumed it was on a more physical level - a superficial one - easy to fight off. Looking into her eyes now, pools of blue speckled with the red blood on her glasses, she was quite certain that was incorrect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again: I don't know what I'm doing so thank you for reading.   
> I don't have a schedule but updates should be fairly regular as I literally have nothing else to do :)


	3. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to add in the actual script a lot but you get a ton of canon divergence in this one, in a good way hopefully :)

The last week had been a complete blur to Willow. When she tried to recall it only one moment stuck out in her head.

“I need to know you didn’t get too close.”

It summed up the intensity of it - everyone wanting to take care of her. Alana, as well. Once - that would have made her stomach do somersaults; the thought of Alana wanting to take care of her. Now it just made her queasy, nervous. If Alana wanted to make sure she was ok it was definitely cause for concern.

No, instead she sat outside Dr Lecter’s office, like any other broken person rich enough to afford the Dr’s therapy (though it wasn’t like she was paying for it). Briefly she wondered if Dr Lecter got any satisfaction out of it; fixing broken things. If so working on her was going to be a field day. The small waiting room did not remind her of why she hated therapists, not in the usual way most did. Instead it was comfortable - but not informal. Oddly enough she kind of liked it.

She’d just found herself getting mildly comfortable as the door to Hanna Lecter’s office opened. “Good evening, Will.” She seemed pleased to see her - as if she had thought she might not actually show up. “Please, come in.” She moved out of the doorway to allow Willow entrance.

Willow strolled in and was immediately struck by the humble grandness of the room - and how anyone could ever think this many colours and patterns would work together. With Dr Lecter, thought, of course they did. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the thought - was the woman ever not flawless? - and headed for the desk, spotting a piece of official-looking paper with her name on it.

“What’s this?” If Hanna found her lack of greeting rude she didn’t show it, she simply closed the door and moved to join Willow at her desk.

“Your Psychological Evaluation. You're totally functional and more or less sane - well done.” Her smile had a hint of humour to it that wasn’t often there, and she leant back on her desk casually. She was trying to make Willow comfortable - she could tell. What was worse was that it was working. 

“Did you just rubber stamp me?” She asked, incredulously. Secretly, she was impressed with the level of unorthodox the Dr was showing - maybe even amused by it.

“Think of it this way,” Hanna prompted, “Jack may lay his weary head to rest knowing he hasn’t broken you - and our conversation can continue unobstructed by paperwork.” She shrugged as if it made perfect sense, and wasn’t, in fact, breaking many rules. 

Willow remained in slight disbelief, staring at the Dr. “But… Jack thinks I need therapy.”

“I’m quite certain conventional therapy will not work on you, dear Willow. Stealing into other minds has taught you how to fortify your own.” Again Hanna stated this as if it was just blatant fact. “No… something more personal is required. More genuine.”

“Then… what would you suggest, Doctor?” Willow asked, suddenly finding herself a little breathless. She’d called her ‘dear Willow’. 

But Hannibal smiled and moved forwards, closer, until Willow was the one leaning on the desk. Both hands placed back on it to brace herself as she looked up at the Doctor standing over her with suddenly-wide blue eyes, though she made no effort to stop it from happening. Her heart was racing, pupils dilated, and she was certain Dr Lecter noticed all of this.

She leaned over Willow confidently - it would’ve seemed an arrogant action - coming from anyone else. From Dr Lecter, though, it just made Will’s stomach heat. “Conversations, Will. We’ll just be having conversations.” Hanna took a hand out of her immaculate grey suit’s pocket and agonisingly slowly brought it up to Willow’s face. She traced it along her cheekbone and to a single curly hair, following this down to Will’s shoulder where it ended, almost inspecting it.

Will was torn between being shocked, scared, slightly aroused and the desperate urge to lean into that touch. It took all of her best efforts not to bite her lip and escalate this (whatever ‘this’ was) way further than it was ever supposed to go. 

“And… conversations, meaning…?” She asked, in a voice that was suddenly very dry. 

Dr Lecter smiled and moved her hand away, stepping back in a way that made Willow want to scream. “They’re whatever you need them to be.” She turned and started looking at some papers on her desk - as if nothing had happened. Will couldn’t help the frustrated noise that escaped her, why was Dr Lecter torturing her like this? What was she trying to do? Make a fool of her?

“Why - why are you doing this?” She practically whined, and internally cringed at how the words came out. Hanna just turned to face her, amused, which only made her feel worse.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her eyes softened and she took one step towards Willow, “I find you quite lovely, and dreadfully interesting.”

That just made Will even more confused. Lovely?! How was she lovely? And interesting? What did that mean? What did the Dr want with her? “But-”

Hanna cut her off with a sigh, “Will, understand that I do not wish to pursue anything with you that you do not return. Though so far you’ve seemed… responsive.” The doctor positively smirked at her and Willow felt herself blush. “I simply felt that, whilst I do take a personal interest in you, companionship may be a better alternative than therapy to you - since you are so set that it would not work. Whatever kind of companionship it may be.”

Will felt positively dizzy with this information. Was her therapist really offering to sleep with her as therapy?

“I do not mean it as an act of pity - either. Again I do find myself somewhat… enamoured, with you.” Dr Lecter confessed, seeming for the first time somewhat shy.

Enamoured? What the absolute fuck was going on. Part of her wasn’t surprised that Dr Lecter was interested in her - though her ways of showing it so far had been somewhat subtle. It was the confession that was throwing her off; the change in demeanor. The fact that after this crazy, messed up week her sort-of-therapist asking her out was actually the least weird and most comforting thing so far.

And it was comforting. As much as she fought against it, she did like Dr Lecter. Perhaps more than she had anyone else - and that terrified her. She supposed she understood what she’d meant, about finding her ‘dreadfully interesting’. She felt the same.

“Y-you’re going to have to give me time. To think.” She finally managed, pushing herself off of the desk and taking a few steps forwards - putting distance between them. 

Dr Lecter’s frown was almost imperceptible, but there nonetheless. “Of course. Would you like me to drive you home?”

“No, no.” Willow said, a little too quickly. “I just-” she swallowed, “I’ve got it.” she headed towards the door, a little shaky but overall managing well. If Hanna was disappointed she didn’t show it.

“Good-” bye, Dr Lecter began, but the door was already shut. Leaving her to wonder if she’d scared Willow off by acting too soon. It was a lot for the girl to take in, but if she couldn’t handle this simple bit of information, Hanna wondered how she’d handle what was coming next.

Would it be beautiful, watching her fall apart like this but in an entirely different context? Completely overwhelmed by her circumstances? 

Dr Lecter frowned. The thought was not as appealing as it used to be.

\--

Blam! Blam! Blam! 

“I'm pretty sure firearm "accuracy" isn't a prerequisite for teaching.” Beverly Katz appeared behind Willow, making her jump.

“I’ve been in the field before.” She offered, by way of explanation. She wasn’t in the mood for talking.

“Now you’re back in the saddle - ish.” Beverly continued, unrelenting. Will turned to face her.

“Yeah ‘ish’ indeed.” She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose briefly, “it took me ten shots to drop Hobbs.” She admitted. It was laughable, really. Ten shots.

Beverly shrugged, “And, what, twenty to drop that cardboard target?” She smirked, motioning towards the target Willow had been practicing with - and subsequently punched full of holes. Willow didn’t smile.

“I’ve just… got a lot on my mind right now.” Will confessed.

“Yeah,” Beverly huffed, as if she didn’t doubt that was true, “I can’t even imagine. The work you do - it must really take it out of you.” She seemed uncharacteristically solemn, and Willow was both grateful for it and put off by it.

Willow felt incredibly guilty that what occupied about as much of her mind right now as Hobbs and the cases was Dr Lecter. Beverly was right, all she should be concerned about was the cases - her work - but her mind kept circling back to their ‘conversation’. How close they’d been - how she could’ve leaned in and-

“Here,” Beverly interrupted her thoughts, gripping her arm and raising the gun back up, adjusting her stance considerably. “Try this.”

She shot a few more times - each one more on-target than her first attempts. “Thanks…” she offered Beverly a rare smile. It was nice to know someone had her back - even a little bit. “You come all the way down here just to teach me how to shoot?”

“No,” Beverly grinned in a way that made her look like she really wasn’t supposed to be grinning, “Jack sent me down here to find out what you know about gardening.”

Ah.


End file.
